Maya's Aura: Goa to Nepal

by Smith, Skye

  Spring was already in full bloom in the little sun trap, though all around it the low hills were still in the earliest days of mountain spring, and the peaks were still snow capped and frigid.

  With the bejeweling gone, she began to notice the symmetrical beauty of nature. The natural world all suddenly made sense to her. She could see it all and hear it all and smell it all. And as her other senses became acute, so did her aura. It tuned best when she was seated and still.

  The old man sat fifty yards away on a sun warmed stone so he could watch out for her safety, without interfering with her. All of nature was curious about her. Butterflies were landing on her. Ground squirrels were rubbing their heads against her. They were wild and timid, but had no fear of her. They hopped around her legs, stood beside her, chatted to each other about her, and just generally did the same thing as Indian peasants had done to her on the great plains. They stayed close, waiting for her to do something wondrous.

  Once the squirrels got bored, the birds began to arrive. Spring birds in spring plumage darted by her to take a good look. They landed beside her and hopped closer. The hummingbirds came down out of the newly flowering, oak-like rhododendron trees to watch the fun.

  He watched patiently until the shadow of the southern hill caught them up and the temperature started to dip. In her altered state, she must be kept warm. He walked slowly towards her trying not to interrupt a discussion she was having with a handsome yellow bird. He soon gave up on convincing her to put her clothes back on. Clothes were the last things she wanted. They would block her senses. All he could do was lead her back to the cave and its eggy warmth.

  At the cave he made up a salty soup from dried packets that likely cost a fortune in sporting goods stores in Switzerland. When it had cooled to warm, not hot, he gained her attention from the colors in the eternal flame just long enough to have her sip some. Long into the night he kept his vigil over her, pinching himself when he felt sleepy. She still had the energy of the mushrooms about her, and he could not risk her walking out of the cave alone.

  Eventually he was so sleepy, he decided to bring her down off the mushrooms using food, and the best food for that was citrus. He delved into his precious trove of food and took out his three oranges, and fed them to her one section at a time, along with his very last bar of Swiss chocolate.

  After moaning her way through every crumb of his chocolate, she lay down on their bed and closed her eyes. Her vibrant mind would not allow her to sleep this night, but at least she had her wits about her again. Exhausted, he curled up in bed. He was so tired he did not remember dreaming.

  She slept or rather, cruised, for a dozen more hours. Sometimes he would lie beside her, back to back, but mostly he went about the few duties of the keeper of the flame, which at this time of year meant walking around with a whitewash brush touching up painted stones.

  "Do not mistake the mushroom trance for a holy experience," he told her as she ate her first meal since the mushrooms. "It is similar, very close, but not the same. What it should have left you is a memory of what it feels like to be one with everything."

  "It was a wonderful feeling," she said dreamily. The simple food was rich in taste and texture and she was savoring every small mouthful. "I was at complete peace with everything around me. Like you said, a oneness."

  "From now on, when you meditate, try to recapture that feeling from the mushrooms. If you can attain it, then it will become a true oneness, a natural oneness."

  "I don't understand. How would it differ from what I felt on the mushrooms?"

  "With the mushrooms, you must have a keeper," he explained. "Someone you trust to watch over you through the times when your subconscious feels invincible, to keep you from being hurt by reality." He opened the chocolate wrapper hoping for and finding a shard of chocolate that she had missed the night before and placed it on his tongue. "Mmmm, oh yes, what was I saying. With a true oneness your subconscious stays one with reality and so invincibility is not a problem. You do not need a keeper."

  For the rest of the day they practiced speaking in Sanskrit. He was quite amazed at how quickly she was learning it. Actually, amazed was not a strong enough description. Students of foreign tongues studied in class for years to reach the level of understanding of a six year old who born to the language. She had reached this level in two days.

  He knew the explanation. Due to the melding of their auras, much of his own understanding of Sanskrit was now in her memory. He did not know why or how it happened, he only knew that it did happen. People used to confuse him with his twin, but they didn't suspect the half of it. He and his twin shared many memories, even from times when they were apart. He chuckled naughtily. When they were younger they even shared their lovers without any of the lovers realizing it.

  Every few hours she would sit in the shade of the peepul tree outside the cave entrance and try to find the 'oneness' feeling through meditation. He would watch her from afar while he busied himself with polishing the prayer wheels that stood in a row pointing towards the cave. He knew she was close to reaching it because the birds would drop down from the rhodo trees to visit with her.

  New skills need practice, and practice they did. By using her aura to create vibrations and sounds in his subconscious, she could almost, but not quite, form oral words in his head. He had not felt that happen since the last time he had been together with his brother. That was almost a decade ago.

  He and his twin would exchange short messages whenever they sat close together. Messages that the ears of people around them could not hear. He felt a sudden emptiness where his twin had once been inside of him. He missed him so.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  MAYA'S AURA - Goa to Nepal by Skye Smith

  Chapter 15 - Dharamsala, India

  There is an orderliness in the universe, there is an unalterable law governing everything and every being that exists or lives. It is no blind law; for no blind law can govern the conduct of living beings. - Mahatma Gandhi

  Will found them as he thought he would, meditating back to back behind the small hot pool that heated the cave. He did not interrupt them, but instead changed the flow of the cold spring to bring down the temperature of the pool until he could get in and have the warmth soothe his aching back muscles.

  The miller had sent a fifty pound sack of food with him for the old man. For the last mile he had been in agony carrying it with a tumpline. He wondered afresh at the tremendous loads that the local porters carried up and down these mountain trails. Loads so heavy or so clumsy that mules and donkeys refused to budge with them.

  Despite Maya's pleas that she needed more time with Vidu, Will was adamant. "It is not my decision. You must return to Dharamsala and make your plans with Marique."

  She sighed. He was right, as usual. She packed her things and gave Vidu a very long hug and then followed Will down the trail. With lighter packs, and lungs more accustomed to the altitude, and legs used to the steep grades, they made quick work of the trail back to the mill. There they stopped only long enough to enjoy some freedom fries because there was still daylight enough to make it all the way to Dharamsala.

  A half hour out from Dharamsala, the innkeeper's son, their guide, called to them from where he was waiting, sitting on a ledge overlooking the trail. "Miss Marique sends you a message. You must not go to town without first reading it." He handed them a carefully folded note written on foolscap.

  It was hand written, and written in a hurry. It told them that there were CBI detectives at the hotel. She had been interviewed. She had kept her answers simple. She had told them that Will was just a guy that tried to pick them up at a bar in Goa. He saw them being drugged and abducted, and rescued them. She had last seen him at a bus station on the first leg of their bus journey to Dharamsala.

  It continued, saying that all at the hotel had told the detectives that there was no man staying with the girls. This was true because Will had been sleeping in the van, which was why h
is name was not on the register.

  "My uncle drove your van away, as if it was his," the boy added. "It is parked just a short way from here. Nobody in this village trusts the CBI."

  "What is the CBI?" she asked.

  "It's the Indian equivalent of your FBI," Will explained. "Each state is responsible for policing, but crime that crosses states, or involves politicians is handled by the CBI." Will looked at the boy and said, "Your father is a good man."

  "He says that old soldiers must help each other. All of us at the hotel know that you were never a guest there and we will not speak of you, but he warns that you must stay away. I am to show you to my uncle's house where you can stay, and then I am to take Maya to the hotel."

  "Will, you must flee," she hissed with a passion in her voice. "Take the van and drive. Where is the closest border?"

  "Kashmir, Pakistan, but that border is heavily guarded. I will head to Nepal like I planned to. It's all arranged with my buddies there."

  "This is all my fault. If I hadn't come here, if I hadn't taken that trek, like, by now we would all be safe in Nepal." she looked up at him. "You must take Marique with you. Get her out of this mess."

  "I'll take you both."

  "No, I have finally found what I have been searching for. I must stay. I must have more time with the old man. You must go. There is nothing here for Marique except, like, danger, so you must take her."

  "That will take some planning. Step one is for you to go and talk to Marique and to the CBI. Maybe they just want a statement and then they will be gone." They turned to follow the boy to his uncle's house. It was close by. A small farmhouse at the end of a rough cart track, with a view of the trail.

  Once Will was introduced, the boy was anxious to leave. "Maya is too memorable. I must get her back to the trail and then to the hotel before someone sees us all together."

  Will grasped him by that hand and told him to ask of his father that neither girl must ever be alone with the CBI. With that he ducked out of sight into the house. Literally ducked. The doorways in the Himalayas were low.

  * * * * *

  The tall Sikh spoke for both CBI detectives when they interviewed Maya. The other man took notes and watched intensely at her every movement and motion and facial expression.

  "It is very convenient that you took local buses all the way here and never kept any of the tickets," he pointed out for the second time. This woman's story was almost identical to the other's. He ran through it in his mind.

  Drugged at a dance party in Goa. Abducted. Held in a warehouse with other victims. The stranger rescued them by pulling half the wall down with the bus. The flight from the warehouse. The fear of recapture or revenge. Taking the English girls back to their rooms. Rejoining the busload of kids. Watching the fire from the highway. Dropping the bus and the tied up bus driver at the American church. Getting a ride with the stranger to the bus station. The long bus journey across half of India.

  The slender lovely woman stood and slapped the table with her hand. "Look, you've been asking questions and I have been talking for like, an hour now. I've told you everything I know. Surely the Moldavian girls and the Nepali kids know more than I do. This interview is finished. I haven't seen my friend in days, and I want to talk with her."

  "As I told you before, you may not speak with her until we are finished interviewing you," he said. "Why didn't you take the train across India like any sane person."

  "We were going to catch a train as soon as we got clear of Goa. We didn't feel safe waiting for trains in Goa because we thought the slavers would be watching the stations."

  "But you never did catch a train. Why not?"

  "We discovered the first class buses."

  "For which you cannot remember the route, nor the company names, nor did you keep any tickets."

  "We've been through this. Just ask me what you really want to know."

  "How can we find the man who helped you. The man who drove the bus?"

  "I have no idea. Why?"

  "Because we think he was part of the slaver gang."

  "That is ridiculous. He saved us. He tied up the slaver's bus driver so the police could question him. The bus driver will have told the police that, like, and so will have all the other victims. This interview is over." Maya tried to leave the room. It was the dining room of the hotel. She looked out of the window at the businesses across the street and suddenly realized that she could read the Hindi signs.

  The two men looked at each other and made a mutual nod, and the tall Sikh reached out to grab her arm to stop her from leaving. The innkeeper sprung from his seat by the door and blocked him. The Sikh felt the Gurkha's hand grab his wrist like a steel clamp and he winced and tried to pull his hand away.

  "You do not touch her," the innkeeper warned and released the man's wrist. He smirked. The tall Sikhs had always underestimated the sinewy strength of the short Gurkhas.

  The other CBI man made a decision and finally spoke. "We are not from Goa. See, here is my driver's license. I am from Mumbai, he is from Delhi. We are aware that some Goan police may mean you harm. The death of the bus driver, one day before he was to be questioned by us, was very suspicious. We have no interest in you other than for information to help us solve a dozen mysteries."

  Maya walked through the door and the man yelled after her. Pleaded with her. "We are looking for the man who rescued you because he would have questioned the bus driver. He will know things that we need to know." He tried to follow the girl, but the doorway was now blocked by the innkeeper, who was asking him how much longer they would be needing the dining room.

  She skipped up the stairs two at a time. Dharamsala was only a mile high and at this lower altitude she felt a rush of energy. Marique was waiting for her in their room. Maya immediately shushed her question about Will and sat down next to her on the window bench so that they could whisper.

  First they swapped stories, and then they argued, and then they planned, and then they argued some more. All in whispers. In the end their path was obvious. Will and Marique would drive the van to the safety of Nepal. Maya would stay here and go back to the cave.

  At one point, Maya slipped out of the room and fetched the innkeeper's son. He agreed to play a part in Maya's plan, and so he swapped his cross trainers for Marique's and left to tell his father of their plan.

  The two women sat in the window cuddling and feeling each other's closeness. Their adventures had made them deep friends for ever. After a while Maya began to read out all the commercial signs along the street.

  "So you are telling me that all you 'ave to do is sleep with a man, and you can learn 'is language? That is so unfair. If I could do that, I would speak a dozen languages by now."

  "That's nothing, watch the... I mean listen to this," Maya said and prayed to bring up her aura. Then she reached her right hand around to the back of her friend's neck, clenched her fist , extended her thumb, and hovered the thumb near the soft spot just below the skull.

  Marique sat quietly, trustingly, and closed her eyes. Suddenly her head was filled with a strange, deeply vibrating noise. The vibrations formed themselves into words and she heard or rather felt or rather sensed the command, "Noah, I want you to build me an ark." She shuddered in fear and pulled away from Maya and involuntarily crossed her heart. "Don't do that," she said, "That's creepy."

  * * * * *

  Early the next morning, the two women stood at the front door of the hotel while they shouldered their light packsacks and then put their white widow's cloaks on over themselves and the packs. While they were doing up their cloaks the two CBI officers came running down the staircase towards them.

  "Where are you going?" demanded the Sikh.

  "On a short trek, a day out," replied Maya. "I want to show Marique the eternal flame."

  "But..."

  "You said you had no more questions. If you think of any, we will be back this way in four or five days. We are leaving most of our things here." With that Maya led
Marique out into the street and they began hiking quickly away.

  They both wanted to turn around and see if the CBI men were following them, but they didn't. Their plan required them to be followed, but they knew that every move now would be watched. Turning around may give them away.

  * * * * *

  "The CBI are following them," said the boy from his perch above the trail. "Marique is keeping up to Maya, but the CBI are way back." He focused Will's scope. "The guys are wearing city shoes. Well, that's two pairs of shoes that will be in the dust bin when they get back to the hotel."

  "Come on down." Will called up to him. "We will have only seconds out of sight under that big Rhodie to make the switch."

  * * * * *

  The big Sikh slipped and skidded in another buffalo pie. His rubber soles were designed for pavement, not for muddy pathways. They were falling behind the two women. Whenever they tried to increase their pace their shoes defeated them.

  The women disappeared around a corner and into the deep shade of a giant Rhododendron tree covered in red blossoms. They forgot about their own footing and almost held their breath while the women were out of sight. "There," called the Sikh in relief. The two women in white came into sight again.

  Five minutes later they passed under the giant tree but did not stop to rest or to admire the beauty of the flowers or the immense size of a tree that elsewhere in the world grew only to bush hieght. At the fork just past the tree they looked at the foot marks. The tracks of the cross trainers were unmistakable. Memorizing tracks was basic detective work in India where there was so much mud for four months of the year, and so much dust for another four months.

  Will and Marique held their breaths as the detectives passed by very close to them. For five minutes after they were by, they did not move. Then Will took Marique in hand and led her towards the uncle's house and the van.

  * * * * *

  Once they were around the next bend, the boy doubled back, pulled back the hood of the white cloak, and inched around the corner with one eye until he could see the detectives. Good, they were still following. He turned and hurried to catch up the Maya. It felt good to have his own shoes on again. Marique’s had pinched his feet.